


To Her He Turns

by ruric



Category: Leverage, Supernatural
Genre: Community: comment_fic, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-02-21
Updated: 2009-02-21
Packaged: 2017-11-13 17:13:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/505838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ruric/pseuds/ruric
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He stumbles into the bar half an hour before closing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Her He Turns

He stumbles into the bar half an hour before closing and it’s only the warning glance he shoots her that stops her running to meet him at the door to ask what’s wrong.

Instead she watches him come towards her noticing the easy physical grace he usually moves with is marred by a sharpness. He’s walks with the gait of a man who knows he’s hurt, but isn’t sure how bad, and she’s careful not to acknowledge the soft hissed sigh as he takes a seat at the bar.

Her teeth are worrying at her lip but she knows better than to ask – yet. Instead she keeps one eye on the door and sends Jo to warn Ash that there may be trouble on the way though she’d be surprised if he’s let anyone follow him here.

Two fingers of whiskey poured into a glass and her hand’s steady when she slides the drink over to him. 

His hair’s fallen forward, partly hiding his face, but she can see the flushed skin on his cheekbone, the swelling beginning around one eye, the pinkish smears where blood has been wiped hastily away. What she can’t see and needs to is what’s under the leather jacket he’s got pulled tight around him. 

The hand he wraps around the glass has bloodied and bruised knuckles and he takes a deep swallow, followed by a cough and curse. 

“That’s got to sting some.”

Her lips twitch into slight smile when he looks up scowling and she’s releasing the breath she’s been holding. She’s damn sure he’s not so stupid to take the drink if he’d been gut shot or stabbed or hurt any of the other thousands of ways that could be made worse by a shot of the good stuff.

She breathes a little easier watching the tension ease out of his shoulders.

By the times he gets two thirds of the way down the glass, there are only four customers left in the bar, there’s no sign of trouble and she can trust Jo to close up.

“Kitchen.”

She walks into the back, leaving him to follow at his own pace. There’s a time to help Eliot and a time to let him get somewhere under his own steam – and she’s been around him now long enough to know the difference.

When he comes through the door she’s got the water heated, the first aid kit she keeps stowed under the sink is laid out on the old pine table and the kitchen’s been turned, not for the first time and she doubts if it’ll be the last, into a field hospital. 

“Sit your ass down, right now.”

The huff of laughter, cut off as he tries to breathe too deep, is as close to an apology she’ll get. Not that she expects one.

Her hands ease the jacket and then the shirt from his body and she’s frowning at the ragged bloodstained gash in the shirt. She doesn’t even try to peel him out of the t-shirt, just cuts it away from his body, pulling it wetly away from the long shallow cut stretching from six inches above his hip to curve around his ribs. 

“How many were there?”

“Six.”

He takes another drink out of the glass he brought with him and she concentrates on cleaning and then bandaging, knowing full well the minute he leaves the bandages will come off. But if she can keep him here for a few days to rest up at least he might get a head start on the healing.

“You leave any of them standing?”

The snort of disdain is enough of an answer and she reaches for the basin of hot water and the towel.

Doesn’t take her long to clean his face, and he’s going to have one hell of a black eye and enough bruises to make him look like he’s gone a few rounds with Ali or Tyson. 

She tidies up quick and efficient and there’s color coming back into his face when his fingers wrap around her wrist.

“I didn’t just come here for you to patch me up. Can do that for myself.”

“Don’t doubt it for minute. So what did you come here for?”

And that slow smile is what she’s been waiting for, that and the way he undresses her with his eyes.

“You going all coy on me?”

She winds her fingers through his and leans in, her lips meeting his in a kiss full of promise.

“When have I ever been coy around you?”

She pulls him to his feet, leads him into her room, and they may have to be careful but she’s got no doubt they’ll find a way for her to give him what he’s come for.


End file.
